Fire Bender
by CloverHeart609
Summary: Ellie Burns always knew she was special- just not Avengers special. She was, to be honest, the messed up kind of special. Growing up in the foster system, she and her younger brother were always overlooked due to her psychological issues. The siblings find themselves in NYC, living normal lives- that is, until Ellie almost burns her school down. {No main ships, pre- CATWS}
1. Prologue

**A/N: So hey there! I'm Clover, aka Cloverheart609, and this is my latest story about my OC Ellie Burns. This is my pathetically short prologue, but I plan to have the first chapter up by Sunday at the latest. I know it's kind of hard, considering you know so little about the story but any feedback is welcomed with open arms! Just please don't be an ass about it.**

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><p>I've always known that I was special- just not in the way the team was special. I was… well, I was the messed up kind of special. I had a grand total of three, sometimes four, mental disorders: OCD, ADHD, anxiety, and a depression that came and went as it pleased.<p>

I was a foster kid, so the state paid for my meds; I had the cheapest available. My system was constantly filled with Ritalin and antidepressants. Emily, my foster mother, hated me for it. She not only thought that I was a druggie and was faking my illnesses to get the pills, but also that I was exposing her _precious _little 5-year old, Miss Katelyn Wellington, to drugs. Like I'd want anything to do with her.

I would've messed up the situation months ago- 'accidently' put a hole in the wall or cussed out Emily or George –but my brother adored them. And they adored Leo right back. I mean they should, he's a cute kid; eight years old, blond, and just the sweetest little boy. He would've been adopted years ago but we're a two for one deal, me and him. And frankly no one really wants a psychologically messed up teenager. The Wellingtons would already have donned him Leo Wellington within the first few months we were with them but unfortunately I was part of that deal. Neither of us wanted an Ellie Wellington.

So I was trying to behave around this family- for Leo's sake, if nothing else. While we didn't get along very well, they took care of us and that was really all we needed. Besides, it was only for a few more months. As soon as I turned sixteen I would apply for emancipation and get us out of here. I would set us up with a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and we'd sleep on mattresses alone for a while but we would be free. And that was all I really wanted. That was my plan; it was how things were supposed to turn out.

But god knows things never go as planned.


	2. Chapter 1: Fire

**A/N: So here is the first chapter, up faster than I thought it would be! Honestly, I didn't proof read it because I was so excited to get it up! So please excuse any spelling errors for the moment, I'm going to read over it and fix any ones that I find tomorrow! Yeah, that's all, so enjoy!**

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><p>January 21st, 2014. 7:16 a.m.<p>

A thick flannel shirt, a hoodie, and a jacket- you'd think I'd be warm. But the New York wind was bitterly cold; it bit at my exposed skin and seemed to go right through my shields. Snowflakes were starting to fall and I couldn't stop shaking. It was so cold.

The air was almost as bitter as my thoughts about Emily right about then, because damn, I was pissed at her. My foster mother had enough time to drop Leo and Katelyn at the middle school, but the high school was just too far for her. "Sweetie, I want to, I do, but I won't make it to work on time if I take you." She worked literally 5 blocks away, but, like many of the issues that involved me, she overlooked this.

It seemed like there were too many people on the sidewalk for 7 am, but it was always like this. The crowded streets were just something I never got used to. Along with all the physical contact; I didn't like other people touching me, especially strangers, but I had no choice in the city. The city that never sleeps threw the whole concept of personal space out the window ages ago.

I finally arrived at Arden High School with ten minutes until the bell, struggling against the flow of warm bodies. I took a sharp left, down the two hundred hall. The giant blue '200' painted on the wall was covered in a variety of colored gum. The janitorial staff had given up on cleaning it long ago.

I joined the crowd of students slowly shuffling into the stairwell. One step. Two steps. One step. Three steps. One stair. 'Accidentally' elbow the couple passionately making out against the window. One more stair.

Eventually I made it to the second floor and from there it's a race to the end of the hallway, Ellie Burns vs. the tardy bell. I lost, but luckily for me my asshole human geography teacher, one Mr. Austin Dye, was too busy chewing out some poor soul for spilling coffee all over his floor to notice my late entrance. Nobody said anything as I quickly slipped into my desk. I was able to hear the closing line of his rant.

"The bottom line here, Miss Keffer, is that next time you decide to make a quick stop at Starbucks before school, I suggest that you finish your caffeinated beverage before you set foot in my classroom. Am I understood?" Bridget Keffer, Mr. Dye's first victim of the day, nodded silently. Bridget was one of the people you would put in the white girl stereotype, with her perfectly straightened hair, 'I love you to the moon and back' iPhone case, and wardrobe of neon pink, it was hard not to. She was kind of a bitch, and if it were any other teacher chewing her out I'd say she'd deserved it. But it was Dye, and _no one _deserved Dye's rants.

"Good. Now go to the office and call for a change of clothes." He said before turning to face the class. Bridget sniffled- I think she was starting to cry –and left the room, holding her soaked shirt away from her body. "Does anyone have a caffeinated drink they would like to throw out?"

Small movements were made across the room; people adjusted themselves in their seats and some reached across their desks and touched their travel mugs with their fingertips, as if considering whether or not to get up and pour their drink out.

Mr. Dye ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes; it was pretty obvious that he was about 99% done with us already. "Let me rephrase that. If you have coffee or tea or whatever, get up and go pour it out. You can have water- _bottled _water –in this classroom and that is it."

The rows of students collectively complained and groaned but everyone with any sort of drink (because seriously? No one carries around bottled water) got up and went out into the hall to pour it out. I hadn't had enough time for coffee that morning, which turned out to work in my favor.

I felt a pencil poke me in the back and so I turned around to face Connor Kingston, my sort of friend. Well, acquaintance really. He was cute, with shaggy black hair and a British accent that would make any girl swoon. So for obvious reasons, I like to pretend I know him better than I really do.

"Did you finish the homework?"

"Shit." Is my first thought, one that my brain forgets to filter. I'd forgotten all about the assignment he had given us Friday, the five pages of European trivia. There was no way I could finish it in time.

Connor just smiled. "I'll take that as a no?"

"Uh, no, nope, I did not finish that." I said, my thoughts tumbling out. "Can I copy yours?" I asked hopefully, raking my fingers through my brown hair and temporarily pulling it away from my face.

"Sorry mate." He responded with a little laugh. "Didn't finish it either." I realized he originally had asked to see mine, and immediately felt like an idiot.

"That's right." I pursed my lips. "Well then, I guessed we're both screwed."

He grinned and nodded. "Your guess is correct, we are very screwed."

Suddenly I heard a loud smack and I jerked around, thinking that a fight might've started. Much to my dismay, it wasn't a hand hitting someone's face. It was Mr. Dye's hand landing on my desk. I felt my eyes widen slightly and my only thought was _'you screwed up, Ellie, you __screwed __up__'. _

"Miss Burns," He began. I was already dreading the words that were about to leave his mouth. He didn't say anything, obviously waiting for an acknowledgement.

"Yes sir?" I said quietly. He scared me, and as much as I resented the fact, there was honestly nothing I could do about it.

"Now is not the time to be talking." All eyes were on me; I could feel every single one of them. I instantly started to feel hot. "Now is the time to be working." I glanced past him at the Promethean board, noticing the warm-up for the first time.

I nodded and said, "okay." I leaned over and started to pull my binder out of my bag.

"No." The single word stopped me, my blue notebook halfway out of the bag. "I don't want you to start now; I want to know why you haven't started yet."

"Maybe you should have asked." I mumbled, completely removing my binder and putting it on my desk. The top edge touched his wrist and with a small motion he pushed it back towards me. "Connor asked me a question. I was just answering it."

"And the question was?"

Why was he being so patronizing? "He wanted to know if I did the homework." I said, my aggravation creeping into my voice. I didn't mean for it to, if anything I wanted to keep my voice as monotone as possible. Not let him get anything, whether I was annoyed or on the verge of tears. And with him it could go either way.

"And did you?" I looked him in the eyes and accidentally entered a stare off. If I looked away, I was giving into him and basically proving myself weak. If I won the staring contest, detention, at the very least, was guaranteed. It was a lose-lose situation.

I felt a sudden burst of courage, grabbed it, and held on with all I had. "Why are you doing this?"

"What am I doing, exactly?"

He knew what he was doing. I knew what he was doing. "You're singling me out."

"I am not." He said, standing up straight. "I am asking a question about the homework I assigned you on Friday."

The courage was fading fast, but I wasn't done yet. I was starting to get angry. "Yeah, and in doing so, you're singling me out. You are calling me out in front of everyone solely to embarrass me."

"I resent that accusation-"

Like a boiling pot, I boiled over; I was suddenly overwhelmingly angry at him. I shot up from my seat and glared at him, staring him directly in the eyes. "I don't care."

From behind me I heard Connor urge me to calm down, to just back down and forget about it. But I couldn't- Mr. Dye was a bully. Not just to me, but to any student who had ever pissed him off. He had power over us and he abused it as he pleased. I was not going to stand for it any longer.

"Ellie Burns." Mr. Dye's voice was dark and had a razor sharp edge. "Sit. Down."

I opened my mouth, entirely unsure of what was going to come out of it, when I suddenly felt a hand wrap around my arm. I have no idea what happened within the five seconds it took me to turn my head around, but when I did Connor had released my arm and was clutching his hand, crying out in pain. Everyone gasped; somebody screamed. People left and right jumped out of their seats and backed away; a few people ran straight out of the classroom.

I was confused as hell, until I looked where everyone was staring: my arm.

It was on fire.

The room filled with a loud, piercing scream. It took a few seconds to realize it was mine.

My fire safety rules escaped me and I began flailing my arm. My brain buzzed. _'Oh god,' 'what do I do?' 'I'm going to die,' 'holy shit,' 'this is it, this is the end,' 'oh god'._

It didn't hurt, that was what was really strange. My arm was tingling, but I could feel it just fine and there was no pain. Of course, when there's flames running up your left arm you really aren't focused on whether or not it hurts; you're focused on the flames.

I would much later learn that focusing on the flames was literally the worst thing I could've done. Why? Well, that made them grow.

As the flames got larger and started across my back, I continued to freak out and everyone was trying to get out of the room. The back half of the classroom was trapped, all too afraid to try and move around me.

"Help!" I screeched, forming a word for the first time since I'd caught fire. I whipped my arm out and away from me and it was like a ball of fire was released from my hand. It flew past everyone and hit the map of Asia on the back wall, which quickly erupted in red flame.

The students in the back had to chose between going around me and probably burning to death- thank god they were all smart. I was alone in the classroom, my body quickly being engulfed in fire as the room around me started to burn. It was the end. It had to be.

That was when I started crying- I mean, truly just sobbing. Tears had fallen before then, but now it was like the floodgates had been release. I didn't want to die. Not when I was so close to getting Leo and I out of the system,

Almost instantly the flames on my body started to simmer. They calmed and as I began to realize this the fire started to burn out. The wall fire- well the wall fire was still burning just as strongly. But it seemed contained to that one wall, it wasn't spreading like it should have.

It was all so surreal. One minute everything was fine, it was just an argument between a student and a teacher. Then Connor had grabbed my arm and- I guess my arm caught fire then. But how? I didn't have any means of starting a fire, and I wouldn't start one on myself. Connor wouldn't have started a fire on me, he wasn't crazy and after all he had gotten burned himself.

Something inside me told me to reach out and touch the burning wall. It was an insane idea, I knew that, but it just seemed like the natural thing to do somehow. So I did; I reached out and carefully touched the wall with the tips of my fingers. Just like on my body, the flames started to shrink. I slowly pressed my hand to the wall; the more of my skin it touched, the lower the flame got. I pressed my entire palm against the wall. The fire died.

The wall was charred, definitely. The room smelled like burned paint and posters and plastic. And there was a smell stronger than the both of them that invaded every inch of the air; I was positive it was the smell of melting brick.

I was abruptly aware of the fire alarm going off. Slowly and shakily I stood and walked to the window, completely amazed that I was unscathed. The entire school was gather in the street outside and I knew instantly that I couldn't go back out there with them. I wasn't quite sure how the fire had started, but I knew it was my fault. I caused it, somehow. That's what people would tell the police: that I had started the fire and almost burned down the school. Ellie Burns burned the school. How ironic.

I heard a siren in the distance; I had to leave. I had to go somewhere, anywhere. Just not here.

So I ran.

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><p><strong>AN: So... what do you guys think? Feedback would be lovely, praise or criticism. I honestly want to know what you guys think of it! So please leave a review and I will read them, love them, and respond to them in the Author's Note of the next chapter! (or via PM if it's posted under an account!) That's all, thank you for reading and I'll post the next chapter soon!**


	3. Chapter 2: Hidden

**A/N: So hello again, I'm here with a new chapter! I don't have much to say, other than a massive thank you to every single person that followed, favorited, or reviewed! You're fantastic, all nine of you ^^. That's all I've got to say, here's the chapter loves!**

**Anonymous review responses:**

**-Amy Brezzy: Now I know you're link with an account, but for some reason it wouldn't allow me to send you a PM! However, I didn't want to seem like I hadn't read your review- I did! Thank you very much for your praise and thank you again for reviewing in the first place!**

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><p>January 21st, 2014. 8:09 p.m.<p>

I had been walking around Central Park for hours. My legs felt like they were going to give out any minute and I knew I looked like utter shit, but I didn't want to stop. I was too paranoid; if I stop then somebody was going to recognize me or arrest me or_ something._ I just couldn't stop.

It had been about twelve hours since the fire. Since I was on fire. It was still something that I just couldn't quite grasp. I couldn't fathom how I had managed to do what I did; what happened just _didn't make sense_. I looked my arm up and down a number of times but there were no burns or signs of irritation- it was like nothing had touched me. But I remembered that fire. Not only had it touched me, it had danced across my skin, up my arm and across my back.

I felt nothing from it but a tingle, a sensation that words failed to describe. It wasn't painful, it was kind of cold actually. Strange. I still wasn't completely convinced that it wasn't a dream, one that I had yet to wake up from.

I debated going home. Surely they all would have heard about what had happened. Would I be accepted back? Would they all be worried out of their minds, wondering where I was? Or would they be disgusted by me, and call the police the moment they saw me on the welcome mat. Or were the police there already, waiting for me to be foolish enough to go back to the place I called home. There was only one way to know for sure.

I wanted to go back. More than anything, I wanted to see my brother. Leo had to be worried out his mind, no matter the situation. We were the only family each other had. We were brother and sister, side by side for the last six and a half years. A team. That meant I didn't give up on him and he didn't give up on me. Hopefully.

But instead of going home I sat on a park bench and gave my poor legs a rest. It was getting dark out and I should've been scared of getting mugged, but I just didn't care anymore. It didn't matter to me if someone came along and stole all of six of my dollars. They could have them. I just wanted to go home and forget this morning.

Not only was it dark, but it was cold too. I felt guilty about all those homeless people I'd ever passed on the street and ignored. They had to sleep in this cold, on these benches that hurt to sit on. Or just on the ground. At least until the police came along and told them that they can't sleep here, sorry.

I should have been exhausted but my body was only tired, my mind was wind awake. I ditched the bench and began walking again, towards the edge of the park this time. Maybe I was going to go home. Maybe I was going to New Jersey. I had no idea.

I found myself shivering in front of an all too familiar apartment complex in Midtown. It wasn't home, but it was a close second. I walked up to the door and pressed the buzzer for room 34C.

"Hello?" Elsa's voice came through the speaker and a wave of relief rushed over me; I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding in. Elsa Watson had been my best friend for years, ever since we both ended up in NYC's Central Orphanage. She was a year older than me and had already gotten emancipated.

"Hey Elsa, it's… um." My words escaped me. Was this really the best thing I could do? Should I even have been doing this at all? If I was wanted or in trouble, then I would get her in trouble just by being in her apartment.

"It is Derek? I told you to fucking leave me alone." I leaned against the side of the building and couldn't help but smile as she bitched at who she thought was her on again off again boyfriend.

"No, Els, it's me, Ellie." I said as I picked at some of the peeling paint on the door.

"Ellie! It's about time, girl, Jesus. You need to visit more often." I didn't say anything else, didn't need to. The door buzzed and I quickly pulled it open, rushing in to escape the cold. I followed the path burned into my brain long ago. Up the first elevator, down the hall, to the right, and then it's the fifth door on the left.

Before I could knock she opened the door and leaned against the doorway, blocking the entrance to her small apartment. Her gorgeous blue hair (I was jealous of her hair, she would dye all the colors of the rainbow and it still looked good on her) was tied up in a topknot and, despite the bitter cold outside, she was wearing a muscle tank covered in pictures of moons and some pajama shorts.

"So I'd like an explanation as to why you don't show up or say anything to me for like two weeks, and then at about nine thirty at night you finally decide to visit." She said as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. "I would also like to know how your nicotine-addicted ass made it two weeks without a cigarette."

I saw the pack and my sensors went off. I craved it, needed it. That's what it felt like anyway. If Elsa was right about nothing else, she was spot on in that I was addicted. Half of me embraced it, but the other half always argued about bad it was for me. I was trying to quit actually, which was why I hadn't visited her in a while.

I remembered that she had asked a question. "Sorry, what?"

Elsa just giggled. "Get your dumbass in here and explain why you took so long to visit me." She said, and then grabbed my arm and pulled me into the room.

I had always loved Elsa's place. It smelled like whatever incense she was obsessed with that week and had the softest carpet. Her TV only played in black and white and the walls were covered in paint spatters and small scenes Elsa had painted. It was all a part of the charm.

"So?" She said, walking across the room and pressing the button on her microwave. The door popped open to reveal a hot pocket. "Why'd you stop visiting?"

I decided to tell her the truth. "Leo caught me smoking. And, you know, I felt really guilty because he was upset at me. I want to stop."

She laughed. "What's he care?"

"They start pounding it into their heads when they're young that smoking's bad for you." I explained as I sat down on her blue, wore out couch. If I remember correctly, she found it abandoned by the bridge.

"Well that's dumb. Are you actually gonna do it or…" She walked behind the couch and held the pack of Marlboros inches away from my face. I could smell them. "Is that why you came back?"

Then I remembered why I was there in the first place. "Uh, well. I'm actually, um." What to tell her? I caught myself and my school on fire, but while you shouldn't worry I'm not burned at all, the police might actually be looking for me so that's a bit of an issue. "I'm in a bit of trouble." I decided.

"What kind of trouble? I'm not housing a fugitive." Elsa didn't even glance at me when she sat down next to me, her steaming hot pocket on a paper plate. She switched on the TV; American Idol started playing in black and white.

"No, no," I lied. "It's just a thing with my foster mom." She would kick me out if I told her what actually happened. She might even call the cops. Oh god.

"Oh." She leaned over and patted my shoulder, giving me an understating smile. "I completely understand hun. Stay here as long as you like. Forever, if you want."

"That might be what I have to do." I mumbled, not aware that I had said it out loud until Elsa muttered, "That's fine."

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><p>January 22nd, 2014. 6:07 a.m.<p>

I managed to get a little sleep. Maybe like an hour. I was just too paranoid to sleep properly. My body craved it, but my mind was wide awake. 'Just a little longer,' it seemed to say, 'let's just try to make sense of what happened just a little bit longer.'

So that's why I was up watching the news on Elsa's black and white TV. Nothing else good was on, so flipping through the channels would just be a waste. Elsa was still asleep back in her bedroom. At about four I had given up and lit a cigarette I stole. By the time I realized I had to stop, it was too late.

I opened the window to light another one; this was my third within the past two hours. But then I lit it and inhaled the smoke, blew it out of my mouth with ease and a sense of grace. I was stuck in so many ways.

I heard the news anchor say something about 'Arden High School' and I immediately turned around to look at the television. "_Teenage girl still missing from Arden High School." _The reporter began, reading the story that would murder what was left of my normal life. "_West Village teenager Ellen 'Ellie' Burns went missing during a fire that she reportedly started yesterday morning at about 8:30. Classmates say that Burns got into a heated argument with her teacher and somehow started a flame- witnesses aren't sure how exactly she did it."_

The image changed from the reporter to footage of Connor, sitting in the back of an ambulance with a shock blanket around his shoulders and an ice pack in his hand. "_She was arguing with Mr. Dye and she stood up and I thought 'oh god, she's gonna hit him'. Well, see she's a friend of mine and I wasn't about to let her mess up her life like that so I stood up to stop her. I grabbed her arm and- I swear to god –it caught fire."_

The screen panned back to the reporter. _"Other classmates are giving similar testimonies. Three people were injured during the fire, and fortunately only one of them is in critical condition. Austin Dye, the teacher reported to have been arguing with Burns, was severely burned during the incident but is expected to live."_

My face popped up on the screen next to the reporter's head. It's from my foster file. It also looks eerily like a mug shot. _"Ellie Burns is, ironically enough, wanted for arson. If you have any information about this girl please call the number below. I'm Freya Greene, reporting for Fox News."_

I tried not to cry, despite being on the verge of tears. My life was over, ruined. All because I didn't do my goddamned homework. It was like some fucked up movie moral. _Do your homework or you'll end up like Ellie Burns, committing arson and roaming the streets._

Habit told me to go take my anxiety meds. Reality told me they were across the city. I started to suck on the end of the cigarette. _Holy shit. _I was a criminal. There were police out there, right now, looking for me.

I did what was starting to come naturally: I took off.

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><p>January 22nd, 2014. 4:18 p.m.<p>

Did I walk around NYC some more? Yes, though I actually ended up in New Jersey. Was it basically a repeat of what had happened the day before? Pretty much. Did my legs hurt like hell? Again, yes.

I had left Elsa's before she had woken up, it was easier that way after all. But before I left I had stolen one of her shirts, her pack of cigarettes, and had used her scissors to give myself bangs, which would hopefully keep people from recognizing me. I couldn't decide whether I was a good friend or a shit friend after that.

Somehow I ended up in Ray's Coffee Shop, a little hole-in-the-wall in New Jersey, where I bought a cup of coffee for ninety nine cents. I sat at a small table in the back corner, fiddling with the mug and the handle that was half-way broken off. I drank some of it, but then I started getting flashbacks from the fire. Every sip reminded me of it.

I didn't throw it out, because after all I needed a reason to be there, but I stopped touching it. I tried not to look at it actually. I examined everything in that café from my corner. The peeling green paint, the framed picture of Seattle's space needle on the wall, the tiles that set off my OCD because the pattern kept switching. I looked at the strangers scattered throughout the shop and memorized tiny details of each of them.

Around 5 a man came in and ordered a black coffee from the counter. I inspected him as they prepared it. He was tall, at least 6'0, making him about a foot taller than me, if not more. He was blond and his hair was nicely trimmed. He wore a brown leather jacket and fiddled with his hands while he waited.

His coffee came in a to-go cup, so I assumed he would leave once he got his drink. But instead, he did the exact opposite: he walked back to my corner table and sat down across from me.

I thought it was all over the second he pulled the chair out. He had to be a cop or a detective or something. Why else would he chose, out of the nineteen available chairs in the coffee shop, to sit in the one across from me? I stared at my half empty mug, hoping that he would go away.

He didn't.

"Hi." The stranger said once he was comfortably seated. I considered not replying but decided against it. I didn't want to ruin anything else.

"Hi."

"I'm Kyle." He said, offering his hand to shake across the table. I looked up at him for the first time, but I didn't shake his hand. He had a friendly smile.

"Lana." I lied, picking the name from my list of favorites. Like I was going to tell him my actual name. My gaze drifted back to the coffee mug.

"Do you come here often, Lana?" Kyle asked, his tone incredibly light.

"Oh yes," I replied. "I like to…" I then trailed off, realizing that I didn't have a good excuse as to why I was in here. I had literally nothing with me but my wallet in my back pocket. My eyes darted around the room before settling on the bustling kitchen. "I like to wait for my mother to get off work. She's one of the baristas." I said, pointing towards the counter.

"That's nice of you." He took a loud sip of his coffee. "Hey, you know, the woman who gave me gave me my coffee looked kind of like you." Either he was lying or he was forgetful and attempting to make conversation, because I was positive that I, with my pale Irish skin, did not look like the Hispanic woman who had served him. "Is her name Tessa?"

I looked up at him again. He still had that stupid, simplistic smile on, looking at me as if waiting for a response. I didn't know what to say, but a quick moment of thinking led me to believe that no was the better option. "Uh, no, her name's Emily."

Kyle nodded and took a long drink of his coffee. I glanced at the tables around us and saw that one of them seated a woman who was intently staring at us. "You okay?" She mouthed once we made eye contact.

Woman helping woman; nothing was more inspiring.

I looked at Kyle again and found him tapping at his phone. I felt uneasy with him sitting there, but he wasn't necessarily disturbing me. I mean, he was really just making small talk- it was my paranoia that made it uncomfortable. So I gave the woman a nod and she did the same in return, before turning her attention to her laptop. It was comforting knowing that she was looking out for me though.

Kyle interrupted my thoughts with a sigh and looked around the buzzing shop. He started to speak again, but this time his tone was much lower. "Okay, listen. Your name being Lana is about as true as my name being Kyle. We both know this." I sat up from my slouched position and lifted my feet half off the floor, ready to run if I needed to. I knew he was a damn cop.

He reached across the table and grabbed my wrist with an iron grip, probably knowing that I was ready to sprit out of here. His other hand was still wrapped around his cup and while his smile was gone, his face was ever calm. It was almost eerie. "Let's be honest here; what's your name, really?"

"W-What's your name?" I said, struggling for a distraction. I looked over at the woman; she was focused on her screen now. I should have taken her help earlier. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"My name is Steve. And I'm not a cop." I didn't believe him. "Now be fair, what's yours?"

"Sarah." I lied again. "Sarah Hyland." It was dumb and obvious and I mentally kicked myself for it. My mind had failed me.

His grip tightened, to the point where it was starting to get uncomfortable. He shook his head. "I don't think that's right, Ellie." I was officially scared and began breathing heavily through my mouth, ready to scream if he did anything else.

His face seemed to tense once he heard my breathing and his grip loosened as he held up his free hand. "Hey, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're going to arrest me." I said, panic setting in. I felt tears start to burn at my eyes.

"I told you, I'm not a police officer. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to help you." He said, letting go of my wrist and holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

I held my wrist close to my chest with my other hand, scared he might try to grab me again. "How am I supposed to know for sure?" I asked, trying to hold the tears in. I was so scared.

He carefully reached down and pulled what looked like a small wallet out of his jacket. He set it down on the table before sliding it across to me. I flicked it open. The top displayed an ID for Steve Rogers, S.H.I.E.L.D field agent, and its picture was definitely of the guy across from me. The lower part showed off a circular badge. The slight of the badge scared me, I thought for sure it was a police badge, but it wasn't. It wasn't like any badge I had ever seen.

"Hey!" The woman had evidently noticed what was going on and had started to storm over to our table. "Are you bothering her?" She said, pointing at Steve. But she quickly turned to me before he could give an answer. "Is he bothering you?"

I glanced at Steve, who was already staring at me. This was my choice, which arrived right when I was unsure of what I wanted. Did I want to get out of here or did I want to stay and see if Steve wasn't completely full of it? Was he really here to help me?

I picked up the small wallet to better look at the badge. "No." I decided and looked up at the friendly woman. "He's fine."

She lowered her pointed finger and glanced back and forth between Steve and I, trying to decide if she should still do something. "Alright. I'm right over there if you need anything, okay?" She said to me. I nodded a response and she again pointed her finger at Steve. "Don't be an idiot." Were her last words as she walked back over to her laptop, occasionally looking back at us as she did so.

As soon as she was out of hearing range Steve started talking again."Now I'm not a cop, I'm an agent. I'm with SHIELD and, like I said, I'm not here to hurt you." The badge had an eagle with spread wings and had the words STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT AND LOGISTICS DIVISIONS written across the edge of it. I had never heard of it.

"I've never heard of it." I stated, tossing the wallet back down on the table. Steve picked up and put it back in his pocket.

"Not many people have. But one of our jobs is to take care of special people, people like you." I wasn't sure I liked his use of special. I was special, yeah, messed up special.

"Why are you talking to me now? After…" I trailed off, not sure if he knew or not that I was a wanted criminal. "Why didn't someone talk to me before today?" I was slowly calming down; the tears had left my eyes and my throat wasn't closing up anymore.

Steve's face still was a mask of calm and he listened intently to what I was saying. He gave me a small smile, as if he knew something I didn't. "I don't think you understand what I mean by special." He adjusted in his seat and leaned forward a bit; I leaned back. "You started that fire in your school today, Ellie. You didn't mean to but-"

He didn't get the chance to say anything else because I was instantly standing, the loud screech of my chair legs sliding not-so-smoothly across the floor not only interrupted his sentence but also gathered the attention of everyone in the café. All eyes were on us.

Steve had reached out a hand as if to grab my arm but he slowly lowered it once he realized everyone was watching. I said nothing to him as I turned and rushed out of the shop, my gaze glued to the floor. I assume Steve got up to try to follow me because the woman practically screamed "Nuh-uh, you betta' leave that girl alone, you understand me?"

I kept the same pace until I was at least five blocks away, and after that I still was keeping myself at a quick walk. I should have known better. It was a stupid idea even talking to him; stupid, stupid, stupid.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope this didn't drag too much- it kind of had that feel when I was writing it. As always, reviews are always welcome (as well as follows and favorites) regardless of whether it's praise or criticism. I'll see you lovely people soon when I post my next update (which'll happen sometime in this next week, btw)!**

**~Savannah**


	4. Chapter 3: Shield

**A/N: Thank you all you lovely people, for your favorites, follows, and reviews. They do mean a lot to me and motivate me to keep writing! I don't have anything else to say, so without further ado, chapter three.**

**Anonymous Reviews:**

**Guest: Thank you very much love! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story, with the exceptions of any OC's I create for it. Everything else belongs to Joss Whedon, Stan Lee, and/or basically Marvel/Disney.**

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><p>January 22nd, 2014. 5:31 p.m.<p>

If you're running from something, never assume that you're safe from it. Never. Because you never are; the threat is always out there and it's always looking for you. If you think that you're too far away for it to be a big risk anymore and you let your guard back down, then it will see this and know that it is time to strike.

For example, I thought I was safe walking along the sidewalk just outside of the Lincoln tunnel. I thought it would be okay if I just took a little break and smoked a cigarette. So that's what I did, stood at a stop sign and asked anyone who passed for a light. It didn't take long to get someone to help me out and I felt somewhat relieved as I took the first drag. I let my guard down.

"Those are really bad for you, you know." A voice that was all too familiar spoke up from behind me. I turned around and was a bit disappointed to see that he was visibly unscathed. I thought the woman would at least have slapped him, if nothing else.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?!" I snapped at him. I expected him to snap back or at least sound annoyed. But he was ever calm, like he was expecting, was prepared, for me to be angry.

"Because if I leave you alone then Shield is just gonna send someone else to get you; someone who's not gonna stand for this chasing business." Steve explained to me. I was still exasperated and exhausted with the situation. All I wanted was my bed back at the Wellingtons and a shower.

"But _why?" _I persisted. "Why are they doing this, why do they want me?"

"Like I said, you're special." I just stared at him. This wasn't anything new; I had been 'special' for years. According to my file, since I was eleven, a year after my father abandoned Leo and I. My face apparently told him that I didn't understand, so he rephrased it so that I did. "You're a mutant, Ellie."

It all made perfect sense. I had started that fire, though unsure how, and then it burned across my body without burning into it. I was untouched, unscarred. And when I broke down and thought it was the end the flames calmed. I touched the wall and the fire burned out. But I didn't want to believe it- who would? Mutants were the freaks of our society. Every so often you'd hear about how one screwed something up, or had just plain got exposed. And after that, they tended to disappear. You wouldn't hear anything about them anymore and after a while no cared or remembered them.

Did Shield come for them like they had come for me?

I realized my mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it, immediately trying to repress my embarrassment. I dropped the cigarette and crushed it underneath my boot, extinguishing it's flame. Now that I thought about it, I could've just lit it myself earlier.

I glanced around the street corner we stood on and was thankful that no one was around to hear that- pointing and name-calling was the last thing I needed right then. Rush-hour traffic was thick, but they were all inside their cars, listening to classical music or NPR.

"They sent you to come get me?" I asked, turning my gaze to look him in the eye. I was still unsure about him and the organization he represented- although, to be honest, there wasn't much that I was sure about anymore. I continued once Steve nodded, squinting against the harsh light from the setting sun. I noticed that he had sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt; I suppose he'd forgotten about them or was trying to be polite. Either way, I didn't point them out. "Get me and take me where?"

"Now that depends." He began. "I'm under strict instructions to take you to their location in the city." He said as he nodded in the direction of the Empire State, clearly visibly from where we stood. "But after that, it's up to them."

I nodded, and I understood what I needed to do. "Okay," I said. "Let's go."

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><p>January 22nd, 2014. 6:45 p.m.<p>

The building was almost unnoticeable- if you walked past it on the street you might think it was just like any other business. But if what the few things Agent Rogers had told me on the cab ride here, then Shield was definitely not like any other business I had ever heard of. They were a government agency.

Of course, the same symbol on Steve's badge was printed in one of the windows and a sign clearly stated that this was the STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT AND LOGISTICS DIVISIONS, but if you weren't looking for it you probably wouldn't see it. It just blended like that. The cab driver almost missed it.

It was a pretty average height for Yorkville, maybe about 15 stories. It was a dull grey, and overall really what you would expect for a government building.

Steve held the door open and I hesitantly walked into the lobby. Chairs were scattered throughout the room but the main attention was drawn to the large front desk on the back wall. It was one of the biggest desks (if it could so be called) I had ever seen and it wrapped around the plump receptionist like a lonely nest.

As we walked through the room towards the reception desk I noticed that no one was waiting in the waiting room chairs. I wondered why they were even there; what was there to wait for anyway?

The receptionist, a young woman with short blonde hair and purple eye shadow, looked up once she saw us approaching and gave us a tight smile. She didn't say anything; she only nodded in the direction of the door when Steve told her 'hi' and displayed his badge. Her nametag read 'Wilds' in all capital letters, and I assumed it was her last name. Ms. Wilds almost immediately went back to her paperwork.

The door slid open into a narrow hallway, with walls that looked like they belonged on the Death Star, and at the end of that hall was another door, this one leading into something much more _alive _than a boring 5x11 room. I further walked into the room to better look around, grabbing the railing of the overlooking platform we were on

It was like... I don't know exactly. It was sort of like a control room I suppose, one that was filled with proper looking people dressed in various shades of black and grey and a multitude of computers and screens that didn't seem to belong to keyboards or computer bodies. Almost everyone was talking and a few people walked from monitor to monitor, reading things over shoulders and sometimes pointing at the screen. It was like an operation.

"Agent Rogers." A voice to my left interrupted my admiration. I turned to see a tall brunette standing by one of the stairways, drumming her fingers against the clipboard she held as if she had been waiting for us. There was a good chance she was.

She didn't wear a nametag and I couldn't tell whether that meant that she was higher or lower than the receptionist outside- but the sense of authority that surrounded her made it hard to believe that she was one to be following rather than leading. Her eyes were a piercing blue that didn't change from their state of intensity when they glanced from Steve over to me.

"I assume this is Ellen Burns?" She asked, inspecting me as she did so. I had to look pretty bad by then; my jeans were stained, my shirt wrinkled like a grandmother's forehead, my hair was stringy, and above all I had to smell like I had risen from the sewers. That was how I felt anyway. I didn't do well without daily showers.

Steve nodded. "Yes ma'am. Though I think she prefers Ellie." It was true but after years of being referred to as 'Ellen' by teachers and child services people, I was used to be addressed by it and was usually expecting it in these sorts of situations. Except this time I hadn't expected them to know the specifics of who I was.

The woman took a few steps towards me and offered out her hand, making eye contact with me as she did so. I didn't say a word. "I'm Maria Hill," She said as we shook hands, and I noticed that her voice was different from when she had spoken to Steve. It was barely noticeable; the average person probably wouldn't pick up the slight softness of her voice when she spoke this time. "You should address me as Agent Hill, though. I understand that you prefer Ellie to Ellen?"

"Yes ma'am," I said, trying to be polite. Agent Hill looked like the kind of person who would completely screw you over, slowly and subtlety until you're a wreck, if you pissed her off. I did not want to be the one to test that theory.

She gave me a small smile before looking back at Steve. "Rogers, you're done here. Make sure that you fill out a report by six. Come on kid, you're going with me."

I almost asked if Steve could come with us; I hadn't known him for more than a few hours and had been cooperating with him in even less time than that, but in this strange building full of strange new people he was familiar. I couldn't, or I wouldn't let myself anyway. He had a job to do that no longer evolved me and I had to be okay with that. And besides, I only knew him about as much as I knew Maria or anyone else in this room, really. He was a stranger, we were strangers, and our story stopped there. That was how things had worked, ever since my mother died. People came and people went. Nothing was permanent.

I didn't look back as I followed Agent Hill down the staircase and into another hall, one that ended in an elevator. From there we went up from the ground floor to floor 12 and down another series of halls until we came to a door that had SECTION DIRECTOR VIRCHOW printed on its window in big, bold letters.

Agent Hill knocked on the door and a loud and quick, 'come in', was called from inside. Maria pushed open the door, revealing a spacious office with a view overlooking the East River. A desk sat in the center of room and was littered with files and balled-up papers. Behind it sat the shortest and toughest woman I would ever come to know.

Astrid Virchow, at age 39, stood exactly 4'7 and spoke with a thick German accent. Why a German woman was the section director for an agency of the American government, I would never know. As far as I would ever know, she was here on a work visa and wasn't actually a registered resident of the US. She had dark hair that was always pinned back and occasionally wore thick-rimmed glasses.

She had worn those glasses that day as she stared at me from across the room, with an intimidating look in her eyes that would strike fear into a grown man. You can only imagine how I felt.

Agent Hill stepped forward. "Agent Virchow, this Ellie Burns, the girl we believe to be an Pyrokinetic mutant."

"Ah, yes," Virchow stood from her chair and walked around the desk towards us. She held out her hand to shake and I can carefully shook it. "I am Section Director Astrid Virchow, you are to refer to me as Director Virchow or Agent Virchow, are we understood?" I silently nodded.

She returned to her seat behind the desk and gestured for me to sit down in the chair in front of her. I sat and found that it was surprisingly comfortable. "Miss Burns, I have been told that you have the ability of pyrokinesis, is this true?"

Pyrokinesis? And that was… what? "I'm sorry, Agent Virchow, I don't know what that is."

She rolled her eyes. "Agent Martinez!" She called to someone behind me. I twisted around in my seat to see a line of three people against the back wall, silently observing us. One of them, a tall Latino man stepped out of the line and walked towards us. "Miss Burns, this is Agent Martinez, our congenital mutant specialist. Agent Martinez, would you please explain to Miss Burns what pyrokinesis is?"

"Yes ma'am." He agreed in a deep voice before turning to face me. "Pyrokinesis is the ability to create, control, and manipulate fire, or a combination of those abilities."

Virchow held up a tablet for me to see and pressed the play button. "We've seen the footage of your school's fire. It didn't take much for us to have your mutation pinpointed."

The video was of me in the classroom; it started right as Connor got up and reached to grab my arm. I watched closely, having been desperate to know what happened in that classroom since it the moment it had happened. He fingers wrapped around my forearm and instantly a fire appeared on my sleeve.

I jerked around and appeared to be confused as everyone around me started to freak out- and I was very confused, I remembered it vividly. Then I saw my arm and started to freak out with everyone else, and the fire started to climb across me.

Virchow shut off the tablet before I could see the rest and I didn't protest, despite wanting to see the rest. "Show us your arms."

"What?" _That was abrupt_, I thought. But then I realized that the fire had been touching my bare arms and, if I were any normal person, I should've had third degree burns all along my arms and back. So I took off my jacket and showed them my pale, freckled arms, seemingly untouched by the flames that had crawled across them only two days ago.

"As far as we know, only a pyrokinetic could have started a fire on themselves like that and be unburned by it." Agent Martinez explained. "Your arms feel tingly, like ants were crawling across them, and possibly a bit cold, am I correct?"

I nodded, slightly astonished. "Yeah, how did you know?" I asked him, confused.

He offered me a small smile. "You're not the first pyro to come through here."

Wait- I wasn't? There were others like me? Before I had time to ask him, Virchow dismissed him back to the line of people against the back wall. "I assume you didn't know about your abilities, then?"

I shook my head and continued to wonder about the other pyrokinetics that had been in my position. Were they terrified too?

"Luckily for you, Miss Burns, we have trainers who are experienced in this field. However, you're going to need to stay with us for an indefinite amount of time."

"Wait, you mean, here? Like, here in this building? I can't leave this building?" No, no, no, that would not work. I needed to get back to Leo, I needed to get back so I could get us out of the foster system. I needed to make a home.

Virchow shook her head, giving me a false sense of hope. "No dear, you're not going to be staying here. You'll be sent to our headquarters. You'll be there at least until you've mastered your abilities, if not longer."

"No, I can't do that." I said, starting to panic. "My brother, I need to get back to him. I need to take care of him."

"Agent White," The section director said as she nodded towards the line of people behind me. "Has told me about your brother. Leonardo Burns, correct?"

I nodded, still incredibly nervous. What if I never got to see him again? Could they do that? Could they keep me from him? "He goes by Leo."

"You and Leo are foster kids, currently fostered by Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, yes?" I nodded. "You two are not their first foster children and they have a fantastic record in the system. You two have done fine with them before, Leo will be fine with them for now."

"But-"

"No buts!" Virchow cut me off but I wouldn't shut up. My brother was the only thing I had left; I could not be separated from him. Two days away from Leo had me nervous.

"Can I at least see him?! Can he visit me?! Where are the headquarters?!" An anxiety attack was setting in and I felt tears start to prick at the corners of my eyes. _Stop it. You can't cry, not here, not now._

"Miss Burns, please calm down."

"Ellie, breathe."

"She's having an anxiety attack, she needs space."

I felt sick. I felt like the walls were too close. I felt like I was going to pass out. I felt like I might die.

I heard a gasp and looked down at my hands. Through my watery vision I could see the smallest flames start on my hands.

_Not again, please, please, no._

"Ellie!" Agent Hill grabbed my wrists, her hands inches away from my burning hands. It was hurting her, it had to be, but she held out none the less and looked me in the eyes. "Ellie, we need you to calm down. Breathe with me, okay?"

I nodded. All I wanted was for it to stop, for me to be normal. "In." She took a deep breath and I did the same. "Out." A loud exhale from both of us. "In. Out."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"See, look." She said, holding up my hands. "It's out."

I wiped at my eyes with my fire free hands. The attack was over, but I was still worried about Leo. He would be alone with the Wellingtons for an 'indefinite amount of time'. I would be away from him and he would be away from me.

"Thank you." I told Maria. She smiled at me in response and stood up from her crouched position.

"Yes, thank you indeed, Agent Hill." Virchow said, as she looked me with concern. She glanced over to Maria. "You should go to the infirmary." I looked at her hands and wrists to see them covered in painful looking blisters and burns.

"I'm sorry." I said, guilt rushing over me. She had helped me and I had done nothing but hurt her.

"It's not your fault." She assured me, before turning to leave. I pushed my hands under my thighs. Maybe they couldn't hurt anybody if I sat on them.

"Now Miss Burns," Virchow drew my attention back to her. "I would be happy to answer your questions, but I need for you to remain calm this time. Can you do that?"

I nodded, ashamed of what I had done. I could've burned this building down. I could've done more than caused some burns, I could've killed someone.

"I'm afraid that, in order to keep your brother safe, we need you to stay out of contact with him. This means that, unfortunately, you cannot visit him and he cannot visit you." I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep from saying or doing anything. "As for our headquarters, they're a pretty interesting situation. Shield's HQ doesn't have a definite location, though it's mostly in the Atlantic Ocean."

I was immediately confused. It didn't have a location? It was in the ocean? "Your headquarters are on a boat?" I asked.

"Sometimes."

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I think I'm going to be updating this fic once a week, probably on Sundays! So I'll see you then guys, don't forget to fave/follow if you haven't already and leave a review if you can! Bye guys!**


	5. Chapter 4: Follow

**A/N: SO, anyone else find it kind of ironic how I got major writer's block as soon as I set a schedule? That seems to be a reoccurring thing for me, I should probably stop doing that. Anyway, I'm so sorry that I took so long to get this chapter to you AND that it's so short. But I hoping that maybe you'll take a short chapter over no chapter? Regardless, here it is, enjoy.**

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><p>January 23rd, 2014. 3:14 a.m.<p>

It's been a while since I've been able to sleep for more than three hours. Well, it's been two, maybe three, days. But when your body is functioning on three or less hours of sleep each day, time seems to pass at such a different rate. Sometimes things fly by in hyper-speed. Other times it seems like the minutes ticking by are hours. Never once has my mind stopped thinking.

In two hours a helicopter will be here to pick me up; I'm going alone, I think. I'm not sure where exactly, and I think that's what worries me most. It's either that or my being separated from my brother.

I twist around in the sheets for what has to be the hundredth time. The bed I'm laying on is the most uncomfortable thing, along with the t-shirt and shorts they gave me to sleep in. This whole room just screams 'discomfort', with its empty white walls and concrete floor. This is supposedly the room entry level agents are given, but I'm not entirely convinced it isn't a cell. Why else would they lock the door?

I get up out of bed once I realize that sleep isn't coming and walk into the small bathroom. I look in the mirror, at my disheveled blonde hair and the growing bags under my eyes. My new bangs are currently grouped into four oily strands. The thin, blue shirt sticks to my sweaty skin; I didn't even realize that I had been sweating. I wasn't hot.

How did I still look so much the same? With everything that had changed in the last two days, how was it that I remained constant?

I strip the itchy pajamas and turn on the shower. I make the water go as hot as it can before I step into the stall. It burns my skin the moment it makes contact. It stings and, while I don't enjoy it, I don't want to twist the knob to turn down the heat. In some way, it makes me feel right again. Heat still hurts me in some way.

I wash my hair again and again, just because I can. It's been so dirty these past few days, it feels so light afterwards. I scrub my entire body with the bar of soap, relishing it's lovely clean scent. I scrub and wash and rinse for nearly an hour, before forcing myself to leave the hot shower.

The towel I find under the sink is just as comfortable as the pajamas, but it works. I dry myself off quickly and dress in the clothes they left, which are the first truly comfortable things they've provided me. The t-shirt is a light gray and fits perfectly, something I would have found slightly unnerving had I not been awake for over twenty four hours. I most enjoyed the black leggings, which were so comfy they could've easily passed for sleepwear. They had provided a pair of dark gray sneakers, but I choose to wear my own. They were the only thing I had with me that I could really call mine.

Four thirty brings an agent to my locked door, Agent Jallen to be exact. He knocks and, before I can say anything, unlocks and opens the door. He is to bring me to breakfast, he tells me, and then to the pad. I just nod and follow him.

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><p>January 23rd, 2014. 5:37 a.m.<p>

Agent Jallen, who, after two bagels and three really bad jokes, tells me to call him 'Kevin' (but only when there's no other agents around, okay?), ends up making us late. The helicopter is already on the landing pad when we arrive, its blades whirling through the air and pushing the air around it. My hair immediately begins to fly around my head and across my face the moment I step foot onto the platform.

A woman stands in front of the helicopter, waiting for us. Her dark hair is pulled back into a bun, but small strands have been pulled loose and wildly fly around in the wind. Once she sets her intense blue eyes on us, it doesn't take more than a few seconds to recognize her as Agent Hill.

She sets her gaze on Jallen once we approach. She has to shout over the loud noise of the aircraft. "You're late."

"I apologize ma'am." Agent Jallen answers, his tone much more official than it was ten minutes ago. "There was a problem with the elevator."

We both know this isn't true; we're late because he wouldn't stop serenading me with puns and jokes about things crossing the road.

Hill narrows her eyes like she know's he's lying, but she leaves the topic alone and turns to me. "Ms. Burns, if you'll follow me." 'Ms. Burns' is definitely a change from yesterday when she was just calling me 'Ellie', one that I'm not sure I like. Is she supposed to be more professional now, in front of the other agents? Probably.

She turns towards the helicopter and begins to walk towards the small steps that lead into it. It's then I notice that both her arms are covered in tightly wrapped bandages, extending from her forearm and wrapping around her palms. Another pang of guilt hits me. I follow her.

Inside the helicopter it's even louder. Two benches sit on opposite walls, seating four other agents. There's two per bench and they sit on opposite ends of each other, staring at the wall and not saying a single word. They're like statues. I'll admit, they creep me out a bit, but I don't have any choice but to sit down between a pair of them, so I do.

I couldn't tell you how it feels, no matter how hard I try to put it into words, but it certainly felt _odd_ the moment the helicopter left the ground. I felt lighter, if that was possible. And maybe just a bit more at ease.

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><p><strong>AN: Again, sorry it was so short, but I really just wanted to get it up and out there. Any reviews, constructive or complimentary, are, as always, welcome and hoped for! I'd really appreciate it if you did leave one lovelies. Anyway, the next chapter will hopefully be up soon (please note that 'soon' can be anywhere from tomorrow to two weeks from now) so I'll see you then!**

**-Savannah**


	6. Chapter 5: Temporary

**A/N: So hi. It's me. I'm aware that it's been, like, a year. Yeah, I know, sorry. I guess I just kind of lost my passion? Got distracted? Forgot? I honestly don't remember why I stopped writing, but I'm here now and I've got a decent-sized chapter. Cool? Cool.**

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><p>January 23rd, 2014. 2:57 p.m.<p>

While the ship the helicopter lands on is far from quiet, it's not nearly as loud as the helicopter itself was. The blades slow down as the agent closest to the door practically flings it open and we're greeted with a gust of cold wind. I pull my SHIELD-issued jacket tighter around me as I stand with the rest of the agents. We walk out single file, the two agents closest to the door first, Hill and I second, the other two agents trailing out last.

I'm not sure what I expected. Virchow had never given me a straight answer as to what exactly the base known as the 'helicarrier' was, but from the bits and clues she had given me I was able to form in my head was some sort of ship, but that didn't require much knowledge or thinking. It was a ship though, definitely. An aircraft carrier, to be exact, the biggest one I've ever seen.

The helicopter, now silent and unmanned, sits parked on the back end of the massive ship; the people on the opposite end look like little action figures from where I stand. The platform between us and them is dotted with aircraft after aircraft, each one varying in size and shape. In the middle sits a tall building, the bridge I think it's called.

"Agents," Hill interrupts my admiration. "You're dismissed. Reports are to be filed by seven tonight, am I understood?"

There's a small chorus of "Yes, Ma'am," before they begin to walk in their separate directions. Hill turns to me and offers a small smile. "Let's go, kid."

Inside the bridge, it isn't much warmer. Most people we pass are wearing some kind of jacket as they pass around us quietly. Hill occasionally gets a nod or a 'Agent Hill, nice to see you back!" I get stares and questioning looks. I guess there's not a lot of kids on this boat.

"Why are they giving you welcome backs?" I ask in a hushed tone, not wanting to stand out in the quiet chatter in the white halls. "Do you usually work here?"

Hill nods and speaks in a tone louder than mine. It's obvious she's not afraid to stand out among the few other agents walking through the hall, which, in a way, already answers my question. "I do. I was in New York for a while due to personal reasons, but this is my return."

"Personal reasons?" I probably shouldn't ask and I don't think I'll get an answer anyway, but the question slips out before I can filter it.

She glances down at me for a brief moment, as if considering whether or not she'll answer me. "Yes, Ellie, personal reasons."

I back down, knowing it's not my place to be asking. It was dumb even to question it. "Okay."

We walk in silence until we come to an elevator that looks much newer than the walls around it. There is a single button on this one, whereas the others we passed by had both up and down arrows. Hill presses the button and immediately the doors open, allowing passage into the small room. She gestures forward and I step in, noticing the sudden rise in temperature. The inside of the elevator is about fifteen degrees warmer than the outside. I stick my hand out of the elevator just to make sure. Agent Hill doesn't offer any explanation, she just watches me with a look of amusement.

"Done yet?" She asks, an eyebrow raised. I nod, slightly embarrassed, and quickly lower my hand back down to my side.

The elevator ride is quick, and after that it's a mere few hallways down until we reach what looks like a command center. A single platform overlooks rows upon rows of computers, and a single, massive window provides most of the light in the room. Further back on the platform I can see a oddly shaped table surrounded by chairs, but closer to me, at the front of the platform, is an array of thin monitors, attached to the surrounding railings.

In front of them, watching the people working below and occasionally tapping one of the screens, is a tall, bald man. Dark skinned, entirely clothed in black, and an eyepatch covering one eye; he looks like the kind of man who knows so many ways to kill someone that he could fill up an entire twelve year calendar, one murder per day, and still have some ideas left over. He looks like the kind of person who could single-handedly take on a seven nation army and come out victorious, or hack into a mainframe and expose enough secrets to bring a country to it's knees.

He looks powerful.

I follow after Hill, feeling the stares of the people we pass burn into my back. I try to ignore them, but feel myself start to sweat regardless. As she leads me up the stairs to the platform, I desperately hope that I don't smell.

Hill straightens her posture and folds her hands behind her back before she begins to speak; I immediately do the same, not wanting to look too out of place. "Director Fury, I have returned from my leave and I have the pyrokinetic."

Director Fury turns to face us and nods at Hill respectably. "Welcome back, Agent Hill." He looks over at me. "What's your name?"

"El-" I stop, because my voice comes out so weak and fearful sounding. I clear my throat and try again. "Ellie Burns, sir."

"Welcome to SHIELD, Burns. I know this is an abrupt change from New York, but this is only temporary. Once you adjust and are able to control your powers, you'll be allowed to return back to your family." Without changing his persona or even the tone of his voice, he manages to sound reassuring.

"How long is temporary?" I ask, hoping that it won't be too long before I can go back home to Leo. I'm afraid he's going to say something like 'a year', or even longer. I couldn't do that, I couldn't stand to be away that long.

"Probably around two months. At least, that's what our experience in the past has been." Again, I'm reminded of the mutants of the past. They've obviously run into my type before, and dealt with it well enough, I suppose. "Your trainer has been working with them for years, she has plenty of experience."

I just nod, and consider it as functional as a verbal response.

"Agent Desoto will show you to your room," He says, gesturing for an agent to come over. "And your trainer will retrieve you in a few hours time for dinner."

Agent Desoto, a woman with a shock of lavender-colored hair and dark brown eyes, walks over. She walks in the same position as Hill, with her posture straight and her hands tucked behind her.

Fury says nothing else, so I turn to Agent Desoto and follow her.

As we walk down hall after hall, I'm intrigued by her hair. It's a gorgeous color on her, but it couldn't be regulation. If my single semester in JROTC had taught me nothing else, it was that unnaturally colored hair was not permitted.

Once we duck into another elevator, I ask her about it. "Are you allowed to have your hair like that?"

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. It's none of my business, and it's rude, and I shouldn't have asked. But she surprises me and, instead of a glare, she gives me a smile.

"Nope," She says, cheerfully and slightly smug. "It's not. But being Fury's niece gives you some options that aren't normally allowed."

"That must be nice," I say, because I'm not sure how else to respond. I mean it though, it has to be nice to have an uncle who loves you enough to let you get away with things like that, something that could probably get him in trouble.

"It's pretty good," She responses, nodding as she runs a hand through her hair. "I do have to wear a wig for 'official' things though."

I respond with "oh," and the conversation stops as an awkward silence begins.

I follow her out into another boring hallway once the elevator gets to our floor. The hall is empty, except for the occasional passing agent or two, which is strange considering that every other hall on the ship (that I've passed through, that is) has had a steady flow of people walking through. But this one is empty.

"This is the residential floor, which is why it's so empty." Desoto says, as if reading my mind. "Most agents in here right now are on night-shift, so they're all sleeping"

When we get to the end of the hall, it opens into a large, lounge looking area. There's a bunch of couches, some TVs, a few tables. There's only two only people in the room besides us: a woman dressed in sweatpants and a tie-dyed t-shirt, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch and a laptop resting on her legs; and a guy stretched out across one of the couches, leather jacket on, one shoe off, blond hair a mess, some cop show playing on the TV in front of him, completely passed out.

"These are what off-duty agents look like," Desoto says as she gestures around the room. Neither of the agents look up.

We only get a few steps forward before Desoto turns to me and touches a finger to her lips, before silently walking behind the couch the guy is passed out on. Slowly then suddenly she tips the couch forward, causing the blond to fall off with a loud _thud._

Her laughter is loud, filling the entire room and startling the female agent even more than the noise from the dude falling off the couch. I can't help but laugh with her.

The blond shoots up from the ground, his eyes wide and alert as they search the room in a rapid-fire speed. When he spots Desoto, still behind the couch laughing her ass off, his posture slouches and he gives her the scariest death glare I've ever seen.

"Dammit, Desoto." He says as he collapses back down on the couch. "Can I not nap in peace?"

"That's what your quarters are for, Barton." She says once she's calmed down enough to speak.

"My quarters suck." He says, eyes closed as if he's already trying to go back to sleep. "There's no TV."

"You can bring in a TV."

"Too much work, I already have one at home anyway."

Desoto rolls her eyes in response, though she's still smiling like she won the lottery. "Whatever. I have an MIT to show around, I've got better things to do right now than talk to your dumb ass about TVs."

He just waves his hand in response and Desoto quickly turns down a hallway next to the couch.

MIT? What, like the university?

"What's an MIT?" I ask her as we round another corner, into a hallway that ends with a steel wall and a nice painting of a blue-purple color smear.

"Mutant-in-training," She said as we stop in front of a door labeled '344'. "Aka, you."

I nod in response as she pulls a card from her pocket and presses it to a black screen on the doorframe. I was hoping for something a bit Star-Wars-ish, like the door sliding up into the frame or back into the wall or floor. Instead a doorknob slides out of the metal door, which, you know, is also kinda cool, I guess.

"These are your quarters, where you will be staying until your training is complete."

Now again, I'm not sure what I expected, but it was probably something like this. Unpainted walls, hard metal floor, a bed made with black bedding, and my very own framed paint smear hanging on the wall. Two doors branched off the room, probably leading to a closet and bathroom. A large dresser sat against the back wall, and on top of it was appeared to be a prehistoric microwave. There was, as Barton and Desoto's conversation had led me to believe, no TV.

I turn to Desoto as she pulls a ring of plastic-looking cards out of the black case tucked under her arm and holds them up for me to see. She points to the card in front.

"This is your allowance card. There's basically an unlimited amount of money on there, but it only works in the cafeteria or the general store. Now I say 'unlimited' but your spending is monitored, and if we feel like you're spending excessively then we'll set restricts and only cafeteria purchases will be allowed three times a day with a five dollar limit. Clear?"

"Yes ma'am." I say, studying it. It had the same SHIELD logo that was on everything else in this ship and printed in small font underneath it was 'this card is official property of the U.S. government. If found, please return to your nearest government agency office.'

She flips to the next card, another black one but this time it only has a single red stripe. "This is your room key. Now, your door does lock on both sides but we will not lock you in it unless we believe it necessary." Cue an extra stern look. "You have access to the residential lounge, which you saw on our way in, but you are not allowed to go into anyone's room uninvited. This card will not give you access to the elevator. You're not to leave this floor unescorted until we deem it safe to give you an access card, which will allow you into a bunch of other places on the ship. Not everywhere, of course, but any place you could want to go. We have a three training gyms and a break room. There's not a whole lot of exciting places to go though, really."

I listen intensely, just incase there was a pop quiz later. With the weird past few days I'd had, there was no telling. I think we were nearing the end though; her professional demeanor was dropping.

"I think that's mostly it. You've got five sets of clothing just to, you know, walk around in, and five sets of workout clothing, specially designed to be heat-resistant."

I remembered, suddenly, what I was here for. Training my powers. Honing them. Heat-resistant clothing was probably a good idea.

"And yeah. That's it. Any questions or anything?"

My growling stomach was wondering when dinner was, but I just shook my head.

"Alright, well I'll let you get settled in and an agent will be down later to take you to dinner." She handed me the key ring of cards. "Nice meeting you."

"You too." I offered as she strolled down the hallway, with purpose in her step and an admirable confidence to her posture. I could never walk like that.

I stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind me. I felt like I should have a bag or something to drop on the floor, symbolizing me taking the next step of this journey. But I had nothing. So I kicked my shoes off, ignored my stomach, and laid down in the bed. For the first time in days sleep came easily.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So again, I'm sorry for the break. I really am. And I have no idea who reviewed and who I replied to and what not, so I just want to thank everyone who reviewed and I'm sorry I may not have responded to you! I have no idea when I'm going to update again, but I plan on it being soon! So until then, my loves!**

**~Savannah**


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